


You Don't Know

by Babylawyer



Series: Having It All [3]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, F/M, Flash Forward, Infertility
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-17
Updated: 2019-01-17
Packaged: 2019-10-11 11:48:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17446391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Babylawyer/pseuds/Babylawyer
Summary: An angsty flashforward where a patient's tragedy forces Regina to deal with her own bad news.TW: Miscarriage, infertility





	You Don't Know

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [You Don't Know](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/449738) by Katelyn Tarver. 



She's tired, so so tired but she knows sleep will evade her. She needs her work, needs to try to maintain a sense of normalcy. It's a struggle to fill in her paperwork when she's this tired and this numb, but she needs work, needs to be doing something, anything but sitting and stewing in her own thoughts.

This was the first time she didn't feel the urge to cry when they told her it didn't take, again. That her body had failed her yet again.

Before she'd been angry, sad, disappointed but this time, she felt nothing. It's been three days and she feels not exactly numb, but down and exhausted, like nothing matters and nothing ever will matter again. And maybe that's better, maybe it's better not to feel than to feel the pain of perpetually failing.

Logically she knows it's not her failing, that there is nothing she could have done better. She's a doctor and she would be the first one to tell her patients not to think like that. But nobody else is in her head so she can think what she wants, and if she wants to blame herself there's no one to stop her. And hey, it's called 'Recurrent Implantation Failure', failure is in the name. She won't voice it though, won't tell Robin because then he'd try to comfort her and it's not what she needs right now. Right now she wants to be not okay, to think her negative thoughts and stew in her relative numbness. And really the fault does lie within her, with her stupid reproductive system that seems hellbent on denying them a family.

Work is supposed to be her distraction but of course, it's a slow day when what she really needs is a non-stop surgery after surgery kind of day. She's been staring at the same chart for five minutes, so it seems catching up on non-essential paperwork isn't happening today.

Her pager saves her from finding something else to do. A pregnant mom, fell in the shower. She grabs Mary Margaret on her way, will let her do the heavy lifting and she'll supervise.

She can't help but stare at Mary Margaret's cute little baby belly, finally big enough to show in her scrubs. She feels...

Jealous, that's what it is, that ugly green-eyed monster making itself known again. Why can't that be her, why does David get to be so lucky while she goes without? This, this is why Robin told her not to go to work today. Why he bothered her all morning to reconsider going in and urged her not to. She hasn't seen him since she told him to fuck off and stormed out. Though she knows she should apologize she can't bring herself to care. It's just one more thing that's gone wrong she doesn't want to deal with.

She's on autopilot as they walk to the patient's room, Mary Margaret chatting away aimlessly in the background. They round the corner at the same time as Merida, an orthopedic surgeon which means the patient must have fallen hard.

"I got a page but no info, you know what's up?" Merida asks and Regina lets her hand hover on the door handle.

"Pregnant mom slipped and fell in the shower, that's all I know."

She opens the door and holds it for Mary Margaret and Merida who make their introductions. When she introduces herself she can hear how stiff and forced her voice sounds but to her relief, no one reacts.

The patient tells them the story as they get set up, of how she fell and messed up her wrist. Regina sticks near the back, letting Mary Margaret take the lead.

While she waits Merida gently moves the patient's arm for a better view. The woman (shit Regina was not paying attention when she said her name and doesn't have the chart to check, what a stellar doctor she is) groans as Merida tells her, "That's a nasty break."

And it really is, Regina's seen her fair share of broken bones but for some reason, this one throws her, makes her uncomfortable. The room suddenly feels warmer and that sickening sterile smell becomes overwhelming. She needs to breathe just breathe, she gets knee deep in uteruses all the time, she shouldn't be feeling squeamish over a broken bone. God, she's off of her game today. Fuck Robin was right, she hates that he was right, hates that she's mad he was right and just, ugh, this day needs to end.

The patient refuses pain meds, so she speaks up from her corner.

"We would never offer something that would hurt the baby, these pain meds in that dosage are okay to have. We wouldn't offer them to you if there were too many risks."

But still she refuses and it's her choice so Regina sits back again, watching. Mary Margaret is slower than she would be, she'd probably be finished by now, but as always Mary Margaret has been chatting up the patient. Sometimes Regina finds it endearing, but days like today, it's irritating. She tries to contain her scowl, but if she doesn't oh well, whatever.

When they start delving into pregnancy stories, her gut twists painfully. This, this she doesn't want to hear right now and this dawdling has gone on far too long.

"Are you planning on doing an ultrasound in my lifetime Dr. Blanchard?" God, she's a bitch today, no wonder Robin's avoiding her. She deserves it, she knows she does, she was horrible to him. She's terrible, toxic, a failure, and fuck she has a patient, focus, she needs to  _focus._

"Yes, right, sorry Judy we should probably get to checking the little guy, eh?"

Regina watches carefully as Mary Margaret places the gel, her mind still buzzing, the air still cloying. Breathe, breathe, she needs to breathe, needs to get herself in control. She is fine.

She's not fine, but there's nothing she can fucking doing about that right now, so she needs to stay as close to it as she can.

And god, how fucking long does it take to check the baby, her anger is building, an irrational fire that's about to explode all over Mary Margaret if she doesn't pick up the damn pace.

Mary Margaret says a quiet, "Doctor Mills," and of course it's hesitant, Mary Margaret not wanting to call attention to her own ineptitude. Regina huffs a sigh before coming over to deal with her incompetence.

She barely hears the whispered, "I can't find a heartbeat," and it doesn't really register what Mary Margaret's issue is until she's taken over and sees it herself.

Just like that all of her anger falls away and she's being swallowed by pain, by sorrow. It's unfair, it's so unfair, oh god,  _oh god_.

She can't- she can't take this.

Her heart is racing, she can feel her pulse thudding and her stomach is clenching, that cloying sterile smell overwhelming her again. Her stomach is twisting and shit, shit she's going to throw up. She needs to get out of here, now.

Biting back tears she gives the lamest excuse ever, "Would you excuse me just a moment I've got an uh…"

Bile is rising in her throat and a tear is about to fall so she turns and flees, only just catching the concerned looked Mary Margaret and Merida throw at her.

She races to the bathroom, barely holding down the sobs that are threatening to consume her, barely holding back from vomiting. She holds her hair as she gags, her body revolting against her again, emptying her stomach as tears stream down her face. When there's nothing left she flushes and sinks back so she's leaning against the stall.

It's not fucking fair, and how is she supposed to tell that woman, that her baby didn't make it. It's cruel, horrible, soul-crushing and she can't bear to give her that pain but she has to, it's her damn job.

It's too much, it's all too much, she can't tell her that, she can't, it's too hard. It's  _not fair_. It's not fair that their patient started her day off like any other day, took one little tumble and lost her baby. Babies are too fragile, and why can't she protect them, why can't she fix this? Why is it that this kid and her embryos never get to see a sunrise, never get be held in their mother's arms, never live?

She can't even bring herself to care about how loudly she's sobbing because it's just too much, it's so unfair and she can't handle this. And god why now, why today, why today of all days did a slip have to ruin some poor couples life and why, why did they have to come to her, to make her the bearer of the worst news?

She hears the door open and she just knows it's Mary Margaret and sure enough, there's that sickly sweet tone, "Regina, Regina are you okay?"

She should have locked herself in an on-call room, ensured no one could bother her.

Then Mary Margaret utters the three words that force her to get up off of the floor and stop ignoring her. "I paged Robin."

"No, please, don't, I'm..." she goes say she's fine but she's so clearly not, "just please, tell him not to come."

She can't face him right now, not after what she said this morning.

"Regina, he's already on his way, it's okay."

"No! God, please, tell him you were wrong, tell him I'm okay, just god,  _please_  I can't see him right now,  _I can't_." Her voice grows more and more desperate as she starts to work herself back up into a panic, anxiety lacing through her stomach, her breath quickening audibly.

"Okay, okay I will," Regina can feel her heart rate still increasing, can hear the pace of her quick shaky breaths picking up. She can't see him right now, she can't be like this, she needs…

"It's okay Regina, I told him you're okay, do you think you can come out now? I locked the main door, it's just us.

The main door locks, dammit she knew that, had been too focused on not puking on the floor earlier to think of it.

She doesn't want to come out, doesn't want anyone to see her like this, she feels like shit, and probably looks it too. There's no way in hell it won't be obvious she's been crying. It's mortifying, absolutely devastatingly embarrassing that she can't handle her shit enough to  _do her damn job_. Medicine is the one thing she's good at and today she's failing at it too.

The thing is Mary Margaret already knows she's been crying so hiding her face really won't make any difference. Still, it's easier to pretend in here, so she'll wait, calm down a bit, let the flush fade from her face.

"I just need a min-nute." More tears fall as her voice hitches, dammit, dammit why can't she get herself in control. She can't succeed at anything, can't even calm herself down, and maybe that's why-

Her next sob is loud, too loud, and she tries to choke it down, but it still echoes in the silence.

She's sitting on a bathroom floor, lord knows how many germs she's stewing in, but somehow, for now, this is better than going out, than facing Mary Margaret and her cutesy baby belly.

That thought makes more tears fall. God, she's such a horrible person. She knows Mary Margaret is worried about her, is being a good friend, knows her silence is probably only making her more worried.

She's just such a fucking disaster right now, and it's hard to be that way in front of anyone. She'd rather die than have people know she's feeling this way, but the cat is out of the damn bag now, so what is she to do? How does she minimize the damage? Stop the gossip and whispers. She's a fucking attending, head of the hospital's premier department and she can't handle what is an unfortunate (and soul-crushing) reality of her job.

"It's okay to be upset Regina, you're the one that taught me that. That feeling something when things go wrong doesn't make me weak, it makes me human. That this idea we have to always be detached and can't care is just a manifestation of toxic masculinity."

She remembers that conversation, vividly. She remembers comforting her back when Mary Margaret was still just her ex-husband's girlfriend, the intern she loved to get a rise out of, not her friend. It really was a turning point in their relationship.

Staying on this nasty germ infested floor is starting to seem slightly worse than going out and facing her. All of her options suck but it's time to get up.

Her knees are shaky as she stands and she swallows down her pride as she tells her, "I'm coming out now but, um, can you get me some mouthwash?"

"Of course, I'll be right back Regina."

That's what she was counting on, having this moment alone to look in the mirror and compose herself. The first thing she does when she hears the door close behind Mary Margaret is dash out and lock it. She will let her back in, but there's no way in hell she's letting anyone else see her like this. One person is bad enough.

Her face is red and splotchy, her eyes tear-swollen. Somehow, her mascara hasn't run, which is a miracle but also explains why it's such a pain to remove.

She splashes cold water on her face, dabs some on the back of her neck, on her forearms, hoping that force cooling down her body will eliminate the redness. It's somewhat effective, she looks like slightly less of a disaster when she hears Mary Margaret hit the door and curse softly, obviously expecting it to open. On a different day that would be funny, but today it just is.

She unlocks the door and lets her back in, grabbing the mouthwash from her without making eye contact and whispers, "Thank you," as Mary Mary Margaret locks the door again.

She can see Mary Margaret watching her, sees her concerned eyes reflected in the mirror as she gargles the mouthwash. She wishes she wouldn't do that, it's unnerving being stared at.

She breaks the silence after she spits to ask, "Did you, t-" her voice catches and she huffs but continues on, "Did you tell the patient-"

Mary Margaret cuts her off and for probably the first time ever she's happy about it. "I did."

Fuck, that should have been her, she shouldn't have left it to Mary Margaret with her baby bump taunting them. At the same time though, she's grateful, there is  _no way_  she could handle telling them and seeing their reaction without falling apart again.

"You don't have to tell me what's going on, I'm just worried about you."

She sighs, "We tried, again."

She doesn't need to say anymore, can see the sympathy on Mary Margaret's face as she grabs Regina into a hug.

"I am  _so_   _sorry_  Regina."

Her eyes are welling up again so she doesn't say anything, just sniffles in Mary Margaret's arms as she rubs her back gently, soothingly.

It's surprisingly comforting and Mary Margaret stays silent, doesn't mention her tears. Doesn't tell her it's going to be okay or to keep her head up or any of that other bullshit she's heard over and over throughout this process.

Regina doesn't know how long they stay there but the tears stop and she pulls away to grab a Kleenex. She blows her nose and the grabs another to wipe her face. She's a mess, an absolute mess, what a nightmare.

She sighs heavily, and Mary Margaret asks, "When did this happen?"

"We found out on Friday, I already had the weekend off, and I shouldn't have come to work today. Robin told me not to and we got in a stupid fight and I was a huge bitch to him. But I just, I just needed a distraction, and I thought work would help. And it did for a while. I had that surgery this morning and was able to turn my brain off, but then it didn't. And then  _that happened_  and it was just too much."

Mary Margaret grabs her hand, squeezing it as she asks, "Is that why you didn't want him here?"

Regina looks down at her feet before she answers, "I didn't want him to be able to say I told you so. You know what I said to him, he told me he was only looking out for me and I told him to fuck off and to stay out of my business then I stormed out the door. I was  _horrible._ "

No. No she is  _not_  going to cry again.

"Do you honestly think he would say I told you so?"

And okay, no, she doesn't. He might think it but he would never ever say it to her face because he's not cruel like she is. He's a good person, too good for her, she doesn't deserve him.

"No, I don't I'm just-" words fail her again because she doesn't know what she is right now, everything is in disarray.

"He's outside you know." She sucks in a breath at that, she's not surprised, not really, it's just like him, but still, she was so terrible to him that he shouldn't want to be around her.

"Since when?"

"Since I paged him, he said he'd give you your space but that he wanted to be here in case you changed your mind."

He's such a good man, she wishes that she was even half the person he is. She's not worthy of him, but she loves him and she's selfish. She'll never be what he deserves but somehow he thinks he's the lucky one and she's not about to try and change his mind.

She looks herself over in the mirror, she's passable, her sunglasses will do the trick. If she keeps her eyes down on her way to the locker room she should be able to avoid detection, make her way out with some semblance of dignity.

She takes a breath and then unlocks the door. She steps out and there he is, pulling her into a tight hug and whispering, "I love you," into her hair. She buries her face in his chest, her arms down at her sides still. She revels in the embrace and then slowly pulls away. Just when she thought he couldn't be any more perfect she sees her bag hanging off of his shoulder.

"Let's go home, love." He says and she nods, grabbing her bag and fishing out her sunglasses.

They make their way to their building hand in hand, she doesn't say anything and neither does he. It's not uncomfortable per se but it's not their usual and that coupled with how terrible she was to him in the morning makes it disconcerting.

He breaks the silence when they cross the street a block away from the hospital. "Love, I'm worried about you."

How can he be so good, be worried about her after all she's put him through, how on earth did she get this man. "I'm sorry, I just, I really thought work would help and it did, until it didn't."

She waits for even a semblance of an  _I told you so_  but all he says is, "I'm sorry too, I  _really_ wish that it did."

She can't help herself and asks, "How are you so perfect?"

His face twists in confusion, and as they walk in the door of their building she explains, "You were right about all of it, I should have listened to you this morning but instead, I was awful and I haven't even said sorry for that yet and you're still here and won't even say I told you so."

He stops them for a second, pulls her over to the side with him out of the way. He turns so they are facing each other, so he can look right into her eye as he says, "You don't need to apologize for this morning, it's fine."

"No it's not, don't say that it's not. I lashed out at you said some horrible things when you were only trying to help. You aren't my punching bag, a bad day is no excuse for me to treat you like that. And I know you are hurting too, and I love you, so please, let me say sorry."

He nods. "Apology accepted."

She gives him a tight smile, one that she knows doesn't reach her eyes and then leans in and presses her lips to his. She grabs his hand again and leads him to the elevator. As soon as they walk in the door, she heads straight for the bedroom, doesn't even bother changing her clothes or turning on the light, just curls up in bed.

Robin lingers in the doorway, "Do you want to talk about it?"

She doesn't, not at all, she's all cried out and exhausted. "No, but, can you hold me for a while?"

He does, and she slowly drifts off.

She's groggy and disoriented when she comes to. There's a dull ache in her head that a glass of water will probably solve. Robin's asleep beside her so she shimmy's out of his arms, trying her hardest not to disturb him.

She makes her way to the bathroom and shuts the door slowly. Only then does she turn on the light. It was a mistake, the pain in her head increasing as the switch from darkness to light burns her retinas. Once her eyes adjust the pain dulls again. She fills the little cup in the bathroom and downs it. She should go grab a real glass but she doesn't, she just fills the little cup again and then brings it back with her into the bedroom.

She crawls back into bed and Robin mumbles, "What time is it babe?" and she jumps. She's not normally so skittish, must be a lingering after-effect of all the tension earlier.

She looks at the clock, "It's 7:30 babe."

It feels later than that but it's not. It's too early to go back to sleep even though she wants to, but if she sleeps now she'll be wide awake at 4am.

Robin must think the same thing because he sits up and turns on the bedside lamp. This light is much more muted, doesn't shock her like the bathroom light had.

She cuddles up in his arm, buries her face in his chest and takes in his comforting scent. His hand idly strokes her back and she sighs pleasantly.

She looks up at him and he smiles down at her. It's what she needs to be brave, to tell him what happened.

"A woman, she fell in the shower and lost her baby. That's what happened. Then all of a sudden it all just came back and I'd been feeling numb and exhausted but then it was just a wall of pain and I couldn't take it. And I was embarrassed and I didn't feel like I deserved to be comforted, not after how I treated you in the morning."

He presses a kiss to her forehead as she pauses. "It was so horrible Robin that poor couple and I just thought about how unfair it all is."

She stops as she comes to a realization. "I don't think I can do it again, just the thought of making it over that hurdle, getting one to implant only to lose it later. It's too much. I don't know what that couple went through to get to that moment but I don't think I could survive that."

She studies his face, wishing it would show some clue as to what he was feeling.

"I think we should try to adopt. What we are trying to do, it's too hard, on both of us. I don't want it to be such a battle and there are so many children out there. I never needed a baby that shared our DNA. However we get our child they will be our child."

He's so convincing, there is no way he's saying it just to humour her.

"How long have you felt this way?"

He shrugs, "I've always thought DNA doesn't define a family. But after the first two times, I really started thinking adoption would be better. But I didn't want to push and you wanted to try again, and as I said I just want our child. I don't care how we get them."

"You should have said something."

"Would it have made a difference? You wanted to try again and I wasn't against it, don't take me as saying that, and I hoped it would work this time. But I was so so worried about what happened if it didn't. You aren't the best at letting things out love and you hadn't let yourself grieve. And I think I was pushing you to do that, which wasn't productive, but I knew you were hurting and I wanted to be able to do something, but I didn't know how to help."

He knows her so well. "You did help, you have no idea how much. I don't know how I would have made it through this whole process without you. You were my rock and I love you for it but this, us, it can't be all about me. You have needs too, and we need to be better at talking about them, about what we want."

"You're right, I should have mentioned it earlier."

She smiles up at him. "So adoption? Where would we even start?"

He laughs awkwardly. "I may have already done all the research, I just wanted to know what was out there. I can make a call in the morning, unless you want to wait."

"No, make the call, hell call now if you want to, let's turn this shitty shitty day around."

He chuckles at that. "They closed at 6 love, but first thing tomorrow I'll make the call,"

She shakes her head, and confusion flickers across his face. "No, we will make the call, no more me doing one thing and you another, let's do it together."

He gives her the first genuine smile she's seen all day. "You know there's nothing I like better. Do you want my research, I mean I know the place I like but we really should make that decision together."

"I trust you, but we do have an hour or so until I can go to bed without waking up super early so why don't you give me the low down."

He gets his laptop and that's how they spend the rest of their night, cuddled up together as she reads and peppers him with questions.

The next morning they make the call and schedule their intake meeting for the next week. She feels calmer than she has in weeks, sadness still lingers but it's softer, much of it replaced with excitement over their new journey.


End file.
